Fraternizing With the Enemy
by mintyfresh69
Summary: Fred and George Weasley stumble upon an unlikely source of help in starting their business, but that seems to be the last thing on their helpers' minds when Harry's problems start affecting them.
1. The First Sign

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just books and my mind

Authour's Note: The disclaimer above will not be repeated. Read, review, flame, enjoy.

**Chapter 1: The First Sign**

As Harry Potter and Ron Weasley walked toward Platform Nine and Three Quarters, they saw a girl dressed in all black disappear through the wall connecting platforms nine and ten. She was heedless, almost as if she wanted the muggles to see and be confused, and yet cautious in her approach as she glanced from side to side just before entering the magical platform. Harry noticed that she had dropped something in her hurry and pointed it out to his friend. When they reached the spot, Ron nearly stepped on the thing—a short dagger coloured a blue so deep it looked almost black. As the blade glinted in the sunlight Ron noticed a detail near the hilt. Picking it up, he saw the inscribed name: FRIMIARE.

They hurried after her onto the platform where the scarlet steam engine was invariably waiting for them. Their search for the girl bore no fruit, however, so they climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express, making their way to the last compartment, as usual, only to find the girl sitting in the last seat facing away from the window. Her head lolled to one side as if she were asleep. When Ron strode toward her and placed the dagger on top of the black leather motorcycle jacket on the seat next to her, he heard her melodic, almost hypnotising voice say quietly, "Thank you."

She said nothing else until Hermione Granger arrived in the compartment to tell the boys to change into their robes because they were almost at Hogwarts. The girl in the back had been sitting motionlessly the entire time. Not a crease in her leather pants had changed, nor a fold in the matching sweater. At Hermione's entrance and declaration, the girl's eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes the colour of ice and a winter sky, expressionless and cold like both. Those eyes flicked from Ron to Harry, rested on his forehead for a split second, unnoticeable but for the barest twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth, then to Hermione, and finally to the worn leather-covered volume on the floor at her feet. She quickly picked up the thick book, flipped through it carefully as if she were searching for something, then started muttering when she found the object of her search. After the muttering, she closed the book and returned it to the floor, pulled out a small glass thimble from a hidden pocket, pricked her finger on her dagger and allowed a single drop of blood to fall into the thimble. She then put everything away as her finger healed itself.

Hermione, who had been staring, finally managed to tear her gaze away from the girl, noticing that the boys had already changed into their robes. The train came to a stop as the compartment door slid open smoothly to reveal Draco Malfoy standing over the threshold alone. He had opened his mouth to speak when the girl's cold eyes pierced his own, causing him to leave looking rather alarmed. Harry, Ron and Hermione turned to find the girl gathering her things, the spell book and jacket in one arm, the other hand sheathing the dagger in her belt. As she moved they saw that her hair was the same blue-black of her strange blade. As she walked past them she shot Hermione a meaningful glance, causing her to shiver unexpectedly.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Those eyes," Hermione whispered. "They're not…natural."

She shook herself once more, trying to shake the feeling of the eyes' effect, and led the way off the train.

The familiar voice of Rubeus Hagrid, gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor, boomed over the crowd, "Firs' years this way!"

The first years gathered around while the returning students made their way toward the thestral-drawn carriages that would take them up the rough path to the castle. As the journey commenced, the trio gazed out over the lake and the traditional boat ride across the lake. They spotted Hagrid's boat, which contained another person this night. As the boat reached the shore the figure jumped out, waved, and ran toward the Forbidden Forest . Hagrid, who would never allow someone to enter the Forest alone, seemed to take no notice of this and continued to lead the first years toward the large oak front doors through which the rest of the students were already vanishing.

The Sorting Ceremony began differently this year. Instead of the Sorting Hat's usual poem or song, it gave a short speech welcoming all the students back to Hogwarts, bidding the seventh years farewell, and of course, welcoming the first years to the school and bid them a pleasant stay. It was a rather nice change to the usual routine.

Harry looked around the Great Hall for the girl from the train, but saw her nowhere. He concluded that it was she who had gone into the Forbidden Forest . He pointed this out to Ron and Hermione, both of whom suggested they investigate further.

"Let's catch Hagrid after dinner and ask," Ron offered.

"Good idea," Harry agreed.

When they finally found Hagrid, Hermione scolded him. "Why did you let that girl into the Forest ? You know it's strictly forbidden!"

"That's not yer business," Hagrid answered.

"Who is she?" Harry demanded. "Why does she get special privileges?"

"Yeh don' know the half of it," Hagrid defended her. "Leave her alone, hear? She can take care o' herself."

Despite further persistence from the trio, the half giant held firm until, finally, they relented. Afterward the four of them sat around the table, chatting and drinking tea to their hearts' content, until at nearly midnight Hagrid forced them to bed. He walked with them to the castle, leaving them outside the front doors, and bid them goodnight.

The trio made their way to Gryffindor tower and stayed up talking about their pending investigation. Who the girl was, what she was doing at Hogwarts, things like that. It was almost two in the morning when they decided to retire to their rooms. This idea was halted, however, when Fred and George Weasley came bumbling through the portrait hole discussing their future sweet shop plans. The each held a short stack of paper, which they spread out on a table near the fireplace.

Ron, noticing a photo amongst the papers, approached his brothers, beckoning his friends to follow.

"Who is that girl?" the redhead asked, pointing to the picture of the girl from the train, seeing that it was paper clipped to a form.

"Her name is Frimiare Mellaria and she wants to work for us," George said, proud of their first employee.

"Owns a place called the Kiy Shoppe," Fred added. "She's pretty successful and offered to help us get our business started."

"Is she a student here?" Hermione asked.

"Dunno," George said, shrugging. "Say, we're going to her shop later. Do you want to come?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione eyed each other and silently decided that this would be the perfect opportunity to learn more about the girl.

"Alright," Harry agreed.

"Right then, we'll meet you here at seven," George replied with a smile.

"Seven!" Ron exclaimed. "Are you mad?"

"We businessmen know no hour," Fred and George recited together, while Ron simply rolled his eyes.

"In that case, we should get what sleep we can now," Hermione said, bidding them all good night on her way up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

Fred and George gathered their papers and followed Ron and Harry up to the boys' dormitories, saying good night and disappearing into their respective rooms.


	2. The Kiy Shoppe

**Chapter 2: The Kiy Shoppe**

Fred and George woke Harry and Ron rather loudly at seven o'clock in the morning, just as they'd said they would, rousing Hermione in the process, who had been sleeping in the common room. Ron came storming down the stairs and sat calmly in a chair near the fireplace. His brothers followed him with their stacks of papers, sat at a corner table, and began discussing the day's business plans. Harry followed shortly after them, dressed rather abruptly, mismatched socks and sweater in hand. He sat down on the bottom step as if to put on his socks, but he didn't move.

"Umm…Harry?" one of the twins asked.

No response. Hermione, who had just finished lacing up her shoes, walked over to Harry and kicked him lightly on the foot. The boy spluttered as if he had been woken from dozing.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Fell asleep."

After a bit of chuckling from the twins, they stood and declared that they were prepared to leave.

The five of them were among the first in the Great Hall, others including Draco Malfoy, Cho Chang, and the girl from the train, who was chatting with Pansy Parkinson. By the end of breakfast, however, the girl was gone. Though he noticed this, Harry thought nothing of it and left the Hall with the others.

The entrance hall was packed with students, all of whom were waiting for Professor McGonagall to open the doors and lead them out to the grounds. In but a few minutes she arrived in the form of a small tabby cat with square marks around its eyes. Upon reaching the doors, she transformed into human form and knocked loudly on the doors, commanding silence. She ushered everyone out to the grounds, then closed the doors behind her and led the way down the rocky lake path to the exit gates.

Without warning, a large white eagle-owl swooped low overhead, dropping a scrap of parchment neatly on Fred's stack of papers. The other twin took it with his free hand and read aloud:

"_I will meet you at the Three Broomsticks."_

The note was signed with a single cursive f, in the style of one used to being recognized by a single letter. The tone of the sentence was that of a command, not at all a request or invitation. They would go there to meet her, or she would find them. The latter seemed less pleasant.

Upon arriving in Hogsmeade, they obeyed the message and went to the Three Broomsticks. They immediately spotted the girl sitting in a dim corner, drinking from a small cup. In the eerie light her hair sheened bright blue where the light hit it best, falling to a deep black, alive like night but dull like coal, where the light was absent from it. At their approach her icy eyes flicked up to meet each of theirs, causing shivers in all of them, and a thin yet unmistakable smile lifted her lips.

Today she wore a black dress, simple yet seductive all the same. The high neck contrasted sharply with the complete lack of back, and the long flared sleeves contrasted likewise with the short hemline and high white stockings, which were only slightly lighter than her milky complexion. The overall darkness of the dress and thick heels made her skin look even lighter than it already was. All this, and she wore no makeup, save a thin film of generic lip balm.

As the party took seats around the table, the girl leaned forward as if to examine them, causing her long hair to cascade over her shoulders, revealing a twisting green snake tattoo in the crook of her neck and left shoulder. She lifted one hand, nails painted the same strange icy colour of her eyes, and placed it in the center of the table.

"We should go," she whispered. "She is waiting."

As she spoke, her eyes flared red and the entire table was engulfed in cold white flame. When the flames diminished, they found themselves in a dim room whose black walls were adorned with cherry wood shelves supporting a great variety of books, bottles, and magical ingredients. On one side of the room stood great wooden cabinets, while on the other were scattered many variously shaped tables. The only source of light came from numerous multicoloured lamps hanging from or sitting on shelves, one on each table, and even a few larger ones on the floor. But for their luminescence, one might miss the small sign hanging on a bare section of wall. Black letters inlaid on a silver plaque read: Dark items available upon request. Aside from the one room there seemed to be no other extensions to the shop. No front desk, no doors, no stairs.

In the center of the charcoal coloured marble floor was a great white star surrounded by many small silver and red stars and crescent moons. In the center of the star seemed to be burning a blue flame, as if the flame itself was encased in marble.

The girl tapped this flame with her fingertips several times until the star itself caught fire, as if she had coaxed that small flame out of its slumber. She took a pouch out of her pocket, reached inside, and sighed before emptying the contents of the pouch into the fire. The shop seemed to brighten a bit as the illusion dissolved to reveal, not only people, but also a spiral staircase, several doors leading to other rooms, and a small table off to one side of the large cabinets, presumably the front desk of sorts.

The five followed the girl up the spiral staircase to a sort of balcony surrounding and overlooking the bottom floor. The walls were lined with bookshelves stretching from floor to ceiling. Each segment of shelves had its own wheeled ladder so customers could reach the top shelves. Higher up on one of these ladders was a female house elf wearing a neat maroon dress. She was taking books from a levitating box and shelving them in their proper places; every now and then she would stop to check the lamps and relight any that may have gone out. As she did this, she caught sight of her employer and waved earnestly, to which the girl responded with a smile and a low bow.

"Welcome back, Miss Frimiare," the petite elf called.

"It is good to be back, Rika," the girl replied in her strangely hypnotic melody voice.

Hermione had looked somewhat indignant at first sight of the elf, but seemed satisfied with the courtesy with which the girl treated Rika.

The girl spoke again, this time with less of the hypnotic quality, or were they just getting used to it? "Arkinea is in her room, I trust?" she asked the elf.

"Yes," Rika replied. "She continues her studies as always."

"Thank you," the girl said, opening a door.

She led them to another room, smaller but very similar to the first-floor room. A tight spiral staircase tucked in the corner of the room, as if trying to hide away. They were ushered to the top, which opened into a dim corridor with a single door at the end. As they neared the door in question Harry's scar began first to prickle and then to burn. When they had reached the door, he let out a small gasp, causing Ron to ask if he was all right, to which Harry replied affirmatively. When the door opened, however, his pain suddenly increased to a sharp stabbing, causing him clutch his head groaning in agony and fall to his knees.

"Release him, Kiy," the girl whispered.

Sharp clack of heels hitting the floor, then softer clicking footsteps coming ever closer. A hand was laid on Harry's head and a voice spoke softly from its owner,

"Rise, my puppet, and see the light."

"He's not your puppet!" Hermione protested.

George and Ron simultaneously jabbed her in the ribs while Fred shot her a scathing look that said, "You're not helping the situation." Meanwhile, Harry rose off the floor, keeping his head bowed to the girl in the room. She brushed the hair out of his face and traced her fingers over the lightning scar on his forehead. Moving her face close to his, she flicked out her tongue to touch it to that scar, tearing another painful moan from Harry's lips. The girls face contorted oddly, as if he had tasted bad.

"You taste of filth," she snarled, pushing him away. She turned to the girl who had brought them there, who now bowed her head in submission. "How dare you bring this...thing into my sanctuary!"

The girl in submission said nothing, but looked her master in the eye defiantly. The superior glared back, not even hesitating at the submissive's cold eyes. No shiver shook her spine; no twitch touched her own cold emerald eyes. After a long while, she smiled a smile that didn't touch her eyes, and glanced at Harry.

"Very well, Frimiare, you win," she admitted. "I will release the boy, but he is not welcome here. The others may stay." She glanced at the twins, smiled again lightly, and held her hand out to them. "Arkinea Sykon. Fred and George Weasley, I presume?"

The twins nodded and shook her hand independently, then followed her into the dark room at her beckoning. At first, it seemed pitch dark as the door closed, but as their eyes adjusted it became apparent that the walls were faintly luminous. Arkinea waved her hand and the ceiling brightened into a perfect replica of the morning sky. Hung on the walls were several small geometric mirrors, reflecting everything from lavender carpet to deep green and violet silk bed linens on a cherry wood frame. The desk, dresser, and night table were carven of the same dark wood. The mirrors also served to magnify and reflect the light, as the room was devoid of windows or lamps.

Arkinea walked to the desk, leaving the twins standing by the door. She moved a small stained paperback entitled simply Rise to one side and began looking through some papers. Presumably finding what she was looking for, she turned to face them. In her hands was a small white envelope, unsealed, with a green wax stamp on the front.

"I understand that my Frimiare has offered to help you begin your business," she began calmly. When neither of the twins spoke, she continued. "As you know, I am the principal owner of this establishment, and with Frimiare's help we have been very successful. You should know that she does not take orders well, and her temper is a force to be reckoned with. If you do not upset her balance, she will be your greatest asset, for what she is capable of may well rival the Dark Lord himself."

Fred and George nodded in unison.

"Understand this," Arkinea continued. "Frimiare Mellaria is my sister, my friend, and my dearest possession. If you do not treat her well, you will answer to me."

"People don't own other people," George protested weakly.

The girl smiled almost sadly, and her voice deepened slightly when she spoke again. "We have very different values, you and I. You should not question that which you do not understand, Mr. Weasley, and I do not expect you to understand since you are not of my blood." She walked forward and looked them both over, her bright emerald-amber eyes searching them as if trying to reach into their very souls. "This is a token of my...appreciation, for accepting my Frimiare."

As she reached out her arm to hand them the envelope, the sleeve of her cloak fell back to reveal a black serpent wrapped around an open-mouthed skull in the crook of her arm. George gasped audibly, while Fred reached out to take the envelope just as she snatched her arm back and turned around, hugging herself.

"You are dismissed," she said distantly.

George opened the door and exited the room quickly. Looking back at the fallen envelope as the ceiling dimmed and the door closed, the twins caught one last glimpse of her grey form against the darkness and diminished light.

When they found the others, Frimiare was filling her pouch from earlier with shimmering gold powder while Ron was watching Hermione peruse the shelves with fascination. Without warning, George pulled Ron off to the side.

"She's got the Dark Mark!" he exclaimed in a whisper.

"Who?" Ron asked.

"The girl upstairs," George answered. "Arkinea."

Ron's eyes widened. "Then you can't trust this Frimiare girl either, if they're in league."

"But we need her...damn." George looked up.

Harry, Hermione, and Fred were following the girl to the center of the floor where the strange blue flame burned. The two brothers joined them as she stroked the flame, activating it, and tossed a pinch of the gold powder into the fire. The room darkened, and once again, they were back in the one-room illusion. The six of them took seats at the round table they had arrived with, and the girl placed her hand on the table, transporting them via cool flame back to the popular pub. She walked with them to the door and vanished into the crowded street.


	3. Surprise, Surprise

**Chapter 3: Surprise Surprise**

The Weasley brothers discussed their predicament for several hours once they arrived back in the Gryffindor common room. Right before dinner the came to an agreement: They would tell no one about it and mention nothing to either of the girls. The twins would accept their help as if nothing had happened, at least until they had some sort of hard evidence, but the moment either of the girls tried anything, their discovery would be made public.

In the Great Hall, food had not yet been served, so the brothers chatted superficially. Despite the agreement, they couldn't seem to get the matter off their minds.

Looking around, Harry spotted Arkinea sitting like a statue at the Slytherin table. He pointed this out to Ron, who in turn pointed it out to the twins. They saw that her hair, in this brighter light, was actually a pale charcoal grey, as opposed to black as it had originally appeared. It was cut in a sort of longish bob style, bangs framing her face perfectly, the rest of it rounding smoothly below her ears. Her clothing was predominantly grey also, with thin yellow trim in places. She was actually quite pretty, thought the shapeless dress and cloak seemed to enhance her air of superiority.

Across from her sat a girl whose blue-black hair was clipped neatly to the back of her head, making her recognizable by her backless dress. It was much like the one she had worn earlier, but this one was made of dark green satin that shimmered in the light, with double stranded black and white ribbon lacing up the back and flared forearms. Once again, the emerald and sapphire serpent was visible on her shoulder and neck, its tail trailing down her back. From her present attire, she seemed very spirited about her house.

Presently, she reached across the table and tied a length of green ribbon around Arkinea's wrist, as that hand pointed toward the Gryffindor table. Frimiare turned around, revealing that the double stranded lacing also adorned the front of her dress, and raised a hand in greeting to her future employers. Fred and George half-waved back to her, and she smiled and turned back toward her sister.

About this time, the professors entered the hall from the chamber behind the staff table and took their seats. Before sitting down himself, Dumbledore gave the command for the feast to begin, and food appeared on all of the tables.

Hermione seemed rather upset to find that they had been dealing with Slytherins, and did nothing to hide the fact.

"I can't believe you made a deal with them!" she blurted out halfway through the main course.

"We pretty much have no choice," Fred said.

"Yes, we can't start our sweetshop on our own," George added. "That's why we approached her in the first place."

"But they're _Slytherins_," Hermione persisted.

"Yes, Hermione, you've made that abundantly clear," Fred replied, slightly annoyed. "It doesn't matter what house they're in."

"What about how that...witch treated Harry?" Hermione countered indignantly.

Fred and George looked over at Harry, who had lowered his head, trying to keep out of the conversation.

"Well?" Hermione pressed.

"Leave him alone, Hermione," Ron interjected.

"No, I want to know what he thinks about all this," Hermione responded matter-of-factly.

Harry looked up at her. "I don't understand why you're saying such terrible things about her," he answered, sounding hurt.

Ron sighed. "He's still under her spell.

Fred and George both looked at him questioningly.

"Frimiare told us that when Arkinea hypnotizes someone, they get this latent attraction to her," Ron explained. "She said it should wear off soon, but for now it hurts him to hear you speak badly about her."

Hermione looked at Harry sadly. "I'm sorry Harry," she whispered.

"It's ok, Hermione," Harry replied. "I don't min d taking one for the team." He smiled at the twins.

George clapped him on the back. "That's the spirit, Harry!"

Fred grinned. "Blimey...thanks a lot, mate."

By morning, though, the attraction had not worn off as Frimiare had predicted. Harry had become more aware of it, however, almost as if it were an alien emotion that he knew he shouldn't be feeling. The first sign of his continued ailment surfaced as he was reading the class schedule for the week, pinned on the notice board. Ron noticed first that he was smiling.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" he asked his friend, not completely taken aback by the unusual change.

"We have Potions with the Slytherins," Harry replied eagerly, his smile fading even as he spoke the last word. "Oh no..."

On the way to the class in question, Hermione tried reassuring Harry that Arkinea would probably leave him alone, because she would probably sit with Frimiare. But when they got to class, they found the girl in question sitting alone at the back of the room, wearing another shapeless dress, deep blue this time. Frimiare, on the other hand, sat on the other side of the room with Draco Malfoy, who seemed quite interested in her choice of clothing: a low-cut long sleeved grey sweater top, a short green pleated skirt, black knee-high sock and wedge-heeled penny loafers. Harry found himself interested in her attire as well, even to the point where his mind was distracted from the attraction for a short time.

Hermione took advantage of this to sit Harry at the empty table in the back, and the side nearest Frimiare, motioning to Ron to sit next to him, while she herself took the seat beside Arkinea. As he sat, Harry noticed Frimiare look at him, then glance at her sister. He nodded unconsciously.

"I'm sorry," sounded her melodic voice, startling him.

He looked at her, only to find that she was facing away from him, engaged in conversation with Draco about some sort of repellant potion. Listening for a moment, he learned that the blonde boy seemed to be having problems with girls following him around. The last thing he heard was Frimiare's voice and a laugh that sounded like bells,

"There's an easy way to fix that..."

Professor Snape walked through the door, instantly silencing the room. After looking around at the students, he gestured to the blackboard, upon which appeared a recipe and complex-looking instructions.

"The Draught of Blood is one of the most powerful binding potions in the history of wizard kind," he explained as the students hurried to scribble down the recipe. "Once bound with it there is no spell that can reverse it, nor any potion that can erase it, save one." He paused a moment to look out at the students, scribbling frantically, before erasing the blackboard and magicking a new recipe onto the board. "Due to its formulation, any number of antidotes should work, in theory, but only one has been proven," he continued. "This antidote is, however, even rarer than the Draught itself, not only because of its ingredients, but because of the time it takes to prepare. Does anybody know what this antidote is?" After several moments, not even Hermione raised her hand. "No one? I'm surprised, Miss Granger."

Hermione flushed slightly. Was Snape actually giving her a compliment? She glanced to her right as Arkinea raised her hand slowly. The Potions Master's eyes widened as he nodded toward the girl.

"The Blood of Eternal," Arkinea said softly. "It is known for its destructive properties. Consisting of the blood of centaurs, mermaids, unicorns, and thestrals raised specifically for this purpose, it takes over fifty years to brew just one cauldron. It is not only the rarest potion known to man, but the most difficult to make and store."

The Potions Master was astonished. "Impressive," he said, keeping the composure in his voice if not his face. "How do you know this?"

"I have done my share of potion making," the girl replied.

"Are you suggesting that you have made this potion?" Snape asked, unbelieving.

"Made and used, yes," she replied.

Harry noticed Frimiare shoot a furtive look her way, then glance up at Snape.

"Please, elaborate," the professor said venomously.

Arkinea paused before beginning. "When I was a very young child, my uncle showed me a recipe," she said. "He told me he had been working on it for a very long time and it was very special to him. He did not know if he would be around to finish it, as he had been getting very sick, so he wanted me to finish it for him if he could not. I must have been about three years old when he taught me how to make it. At that point, I could not imagine my uncle leaving, but about a week later he died. He left me his laboratory in his will, and requested that only I be let into the back chamber. By age six, I was going there regularly. At that time, I did not fully understand what it was I was doing, but I kept working on the potion nonetheless. When I was nine, a man came to our house saying he knew my uncle and could help me with the potion. I gratefully accepted his help and four days later, he delivered the unicorn blood, the last ingredient. That night I finished the potion. My uncle was so proud.

"My mother and father had been fighting and my mother wanted a divorce, but my father would not hear of it. Finally, mother had had enough. She walked out, but father was too clever. He gave her some tea, her favourite Earl Grey, and slipped the Blood Draught into her cup. After that, she never tried to leave, but she got sick. No matter what we did, she kept getting worse. I knew it was daddy's fault, even though he had not meant to hurt her. I remembered something Uncle Thomas had said, 'blood of the eternals can bring death as well as life.' It was cryptic, but maybe he meant the potion could help mama. Maybe it could stop her hurting. I tried. I gave it to her like daddy had given her the Draught, in a cup of tea, Earl Grey, and she drank it all up, like maybe she knew it might help her.

"After that she started getting better. When she stopped being sick, she kept getting healthier, and daddy loved her more than ever, I think because he almost lost her." She paused before continuing,

"I was eleven when my mother died of a gunshot to the head. My father killed her, then himself. He blamed me."

Silence descended upon the room. After a few moments, Professor Snape sat at his desk.

"What are you waiting for?" he snapped, his voice cracking. "Get to work."


	4. Sum Up

**Chapter 4: Sum Up**

A soft knock. Ron opened the portrait, seeing Arkinea standing there looking down at the floor, holding an envelope.

"I believe I owe your brothers an apology," she said, looking up.

Ron looked back into the common room. "It's for you," he called to the twins.

As they reached the portrait hole, they waved Ron away. The younger boy moved away, but not out of earshot.

"I came to apologize for my actions the other day," Arkinea admonished herself. "I had no right to react the way I did." Holding out the envelope, she added, "I brought this for you."

Fred hesitated before taking the envelope, saying, "It's all right. I'd probably have done the same if I had...if I were in that situation."

"Thank you," George said.

"Thank you for understanding," she replied, turning to leave. "I think I will be seeing you soon."

They watched her go, then turned to their younger brother, waving the envelope at him. George and Ron looked at it expectantly, while Fred ran his hand under the loose flap and extracted a piece of paper fitting perfectly inside. Turning it over, they all exclaimed at the value. Ginny, who had been reading and ignoring them successfully until now, made her way over to their huddle and demanded to know what was going on; when they showed her, she nearly screeched in astonishment.

"What's going on?" Harry yelled over the Weasleys' exclamations, having just come down from his dormitory.

"You wouldn't believe this!" Ron called. "Come look!"

Harry joined the four Weasleys, thinking this must be important if Ginny was here too. She usually avoided her brothers in search of other entertainment. In fact, since they'd started term Harry hadn't seen her at all until this moment.

"What?" he asked.

No sooner had the word escaped his mouth than a piece of paper was shoved in his face. He spluttered at the sudden obstruction, but took the paper. It was a Gringott's check with the name Delia Sykon typed at the top. It read: _Pay to the Order of Fred and George Weasley; one hundred and fifty thousand galleons; 150,000 g; Weasley's Wizard Wheezes; Arkinea Sykon._

"Merlin's beard," Harry gasped, the unfamiliar phrase coming naturally at the moment.

"I know!" Fred exclaimed. "It's great isn't it?"

"We could buy Diagon Alley with this much money!" George cried.

"Don't get your hopes up, brother," Ginny said. "Mum'll demand a share of it, you know that."

The twins grinned deviously. "Not if she doesn't know about it," they sang together meaningfully.

"You two!" their sister cried, exasperated. "All right, I won't say anything. On one condition."

"What is it?" George asked sullenly.

"My first purchase is free," Ginny stated.

"You got it, sis!" Fred replied cheerfully.

"You're the best," Ron laughed.

Harry was speechless. Even with all that his parents had left him, he'd never even dreamed of so much money in his life. Well, maybe dreamed, but certainly never seen. And now the family whose youngest son had envied the Potter fortune had a fortune of their own.

Fred and George drug Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry all to Hogsmeade the very next day to begin shopping for property. Finding none to their liking there, they spent the next week searching through Diagon Alley, Vertick Alley, Horizon Alley, and even Knockturn Alley, but still found nothing. Finally, and completely by accident, they stumbled upon a For Sale advertisement indicating a small space in Fyne Alley. Upon arriving at the property in question, they learned that the space had been a tearoom run by an elderly lady who had died recently. She had full legal ownership of the property and no heirs, so had requested in her will the specifications of sale, that the place be sold for twenty thousand galleons and all the money go to charity.

"Man, that's a steal!" Ron exclaimed.

Ginny was suspicious, though. "There's got to be a catch. It's dirt cheap but it hasn't sold yet. Why?"

"You're so gloomy," Fred sighed.

George's spirits could not be dampened, however, and he inquired at the shop next door how to acquire the property for himself.

"We have to go to the bank and talk to Gorda," he reported upon his return. "She's the goblin who was left in charge of the property."

"I think Ginny's right," Hermione put in. "There's got to be a catch. This is too easy."

"You mean other than the fact that it took us over a week to find this place?" Fred inquired sarcastically.

"Even that was too easy," Ginny said.

"Not to mention cliché," Hermione added. "You search in vain and just when you think all is lost, you stumble upon this amazing opportunity. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think this is just a tad bit out of the ordinary."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Hermione," Harry copied her. "But don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?"

"I may be," she admitted. "But better to be safe than sorry."

"At least someone agrees with me," Ginny stated.

"The more I think about it, the more I'm thinking you may be right," Ron said, looking thoughtful.

"Aha!" Ginny cried triumphantly.

"But," Ron continued, eyeing his sister. "I think we should at least go talk to Gorda. She may be able to shed more light on the subject. Maybe the place did belong to some nice old lady and that's it, or maybe there's more to it. We'll never know if we don't give it a chance."

Hermione smiled at Ron with admiration. "Ron's right," she agreed. "I'm glad at least one of us is seeing things sensibly."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Harry said after a moment of silence. "Let's go."

Leaving Fyne Alley, the party made their way to Diagon Alley and Gringott's bank, where they sought out the goblin, Gorda. When, at last, she would see them, she turned out to be unusually tall. She wore a rumpled violet dress under the standard issue hunter green pocketed apron. Sticking out of one pocket was a manila folder closed by clip on either edge. It appeared to have very little in the way of contents, as it seemed thin and wrinkled. The lady goblin walked toward them, motioning to a small office door, through which the party followed.

"I understand you are interested in the Fyne Alley property," she said, sitting in a tall chair behind the desk.

"Yes," Fred replied. "We were a bit apprehensive because of the price. We were told you could explain."

Gorda drew the thin folder out of her apron pocket and laid it flat on the desk.

"That has been a slight problem in selling this property," she explained. "You see, people looking into the property have second-guessed things because of the price first. What makes them refuse is not only the oddities about the place, but the late owner's family."

She paused, drawing out a photograph from the folder and pushing it across the desk for the party to see. The people were still, a Muggle photo, the paper yellowed and crumbling. The faded ink showed a beautiful ebony-tressed woman, probably no more than thirty, sitting on a wooden rocking chair under a tree. A young boy, six or seven by the looks of him, sat smiling on her lap fiddling with her long plait, while she ruffled his hair, the same dark colour of her own. At sight of the boy, both Harry and Ginny gasped, looking at each other and then swiftly looking away.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, sounding worried.

"I think..." Harry began feebly. "I think I know who that boy is..."

He reached carefully for the photograph, not wanting to damage it, and turned it over. Written with a fountain pen, by the appearance of the strokes, a scripty hand wrote: _Melanie and Tom, March 1937._

"What?" the Weasley brothers asked simultaneously.

Gorda made a strange noise in her throat, one Harry recognized as disbelief. "Young man, that is impossible," she stated professionally. "That boy is now all but dead. Unless you have visited the past..." She chuckled.

"No, I'm sure!" Harry protested. "It's Tom Riddle!"

The lady goblin gasped. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Erm..." Harry began, rummaging through his mind for a reasonable explanation.

"Harry used to, er, admire him," Ginny interjected.

"Before he found out he was You-Know-Who," Ron added.

A thoughtful look crossed Gorda's face as she replied, understanding, "Ah, yes. Many young wizards admired Tom Riddle before he became known as the Dark Lord."

"I can certainly see why people don't want the property," Ginny said. "The woman in the picture was his mother, I presume? And she was the owner of the shop, yes?"

"Very perceptive, young lady," Gorda answered, smiling.

"We'll take it!" George blurted out unexpectedly.

"We will?" Fred asked.

"Yes! Don't you see?" George exclaimed. "So many people will come to see what crazies bought the Riddle place and..."

"It'll be great for business!" Fred finished. Turning to the lady goblin, he asked, "What do we have to do?"

"This is so unexpected," she replied, shocked. "There's only one form to sign and money must change hands, but that is all. We never actually expected to be able to sell the place."

She withdrew a single sheet of paper, an ownership document, from the manila folder, telling the twins that all they had to do was write and sign their names on the lines provided, and the property would be theirs. They took turns signing the document and a check, the handed both to Gorda. After looking them over, something caught her eye.

"Mr. Weasley, this is for twenty five thousand," she said. "The property is only twenty thousand."

"We're aware of that," George said.

"Keep the change," Fred added, grinning. "It goes to charity, right? Keep a bit for yourself. Five thousand is nothing if our business kicks off."

"You are very generous, sirs," the lady goblin said as she detached a yellow paper from the back of the ownership document, a carbon copy. "Everything is ready fir you. The shop was cleaned and emptied upon Madame Riddle's death. Upkeep has been taken care of by the owner of the apothecary across the street. He has the key."

"Thank you very much," Fred said.

As the party turned to leave, the lady goblin called them back. "One moment please," she began. "Before you go, you should know that there are strange enchantments lingering about the place. They are precautionary in nature only, and not even the most powerful of wizards have been able to break them. It is believed that they were the creation of the late Madame Riddle, but no one can be sure. Perhaps you know of someone who can shed more light on this matter," she finished with a meaningful glance at the twins, who in turn glanced at each other.

The Weasley boys thanked Gorda again, and the party made their way out of the bank and toward Fyne Alley once more. When they arrived at their new property, they immediately began searching for the apothecary, but to no avail.

"What is it with this place?" Ron exclaimed. "Across the street, she said. Ha!"

"In this place, nothing is as it seems," said a rough, quiet voice.

Ron started, turning to face the voice's host. "You—," he spluttered. "What are you doing here?"

Emerald eyes met his own. "I have no quarrel with you, boy," said the girl in her quiet voice. "I come to help." She looked at the twins. "I see you have bought the Riddle place. If you seek the key, you will find it." She pointed toward a small place with pink doilies in the windows. "I will send my Frimiare to assist you with the enchantments. Goodbye...friends." She sneered this last word with a distasteful glance at Harry, who had been staring at her.

Fred and George glanced at each other and muttered, "Interesting."

Hermione led the way to the pink doily place and down a flight of stairs to the right of the building.

"No wonder we didn't see this," she mused, eyeing the vine- and moss-covered stone steps warily.

At the foot of the stairs, there was a plain wooden door with Please Knock painted in white at eye level. Hermione did as the message requested and shortly thereafter a bald little man opened the door to let them in. The party followed him inside as he took his place behind the counter. The place was dark, walls paneled in a dark redwood, shelves of the same. The floor was bare cement, its colour indistinguishable in the flickering yellow light. The many cages were mostly empty, only a few housing rats or mice. Several aquariums sat behind the counter, each hold some sort of reptile.

"What kin I do ye fer?" the shopkeeper asked after allowing them a few moments to look around.

Fred stepped up to the counter and spoke. "We were told that you were entrusted with the key to the Riddle shop."

The man looked thoughtful, then replied, "Ah, yes. Ol' Melanie's place. Good woman, she. I have th' key, yes. What would ye be needin' with it?"

"Well, you see, my brother..." Fred paused to snag George by the sleeve and pull him close. "My brother and I have bought the place for our own shop."

"I see. Well, I'll be needin' proof o' that," the man said.

Fred nudged George, who produced the sheet of paper given them by the lady goblin. At sight of this, the man nodded as if in approval before retreating into a room behind the counter. He returned moments later, carrying a thick chain from which dangled a large tarnished silver key, which he handed over to the twins. Fred thanked him in response.

"Take good care o' ol' Mel's place, y'hear?" he said.

"Of course, sir," George replied.

At this, the man gave them a broad smile and said, "Off ye go th'n. Go git yer shop fixed up." He shooed them out of his own shop, encouraging them. As the party trooped up the overgrown stairs, he called, "Good luck!" and went back inside.


	5. Mixed Feelings

**Chapter 5: Mixed Feelings**

When they got back to the shop, Frimiare was waiting for them, fiddling with her wand, a long stick of hawthorn, watching the street for them. Sighting them, she waved, then returned to her wand-fiddling. As they neared they heard that she was muttering under her breath and running her fingers over the length of her wand in a pattern.

"What are you up to?" Fred asked.

She looked up at him, a bewildered look on her face. "These enchantments are child's play, but there is an underlying spell of much complexity binding the others in place," she explained.

"How can you tell?" Hermione asked in admiration.

"I'm not sure…I guess I just have a knack for these things," Frimiare replied, smiling.

"I didn't think that was possible," Hermione said.

Frimiare shrugged and continued with her muttering. She would turn in certain directions and say things like, "there?" but then shake her head and continue her analysis. Finally, after several minutes of this obvious frustration, she pointed her wand at a spot above and to the right of the door and said firmly, "Umbram mea revenias." A ghostly light encompassed the shop and absorbed into the hawthorn wood. Frimiare smiled, pleased with her handiwork

"That's it?" Ron asked bluntly. "It's finished?"

The girl nodded. "Yes," she answered. She turned to face the twins and added, "The enchantments are now yours to do with what you wish." When no one did anything, she gestured to the door and said persuasively, "Well, go on."

At this, Fred pulled out the tattered white envelope, reached inside and produced a tarnished silver skeleton-type key. He stepped forward and slid the thin metal into the lock; as he turned it the lock clicked open and the door creaked inward.

The floor of the shop was a bit dusty and the air was thick, almost suffocating. Hermione whispered something at her wand, causing a cool wind to blow through the shop. As the party stepped inside darkness enveloped them, but their eyes soon adjusted to the gloom, revealing several small oil lamps mounted on the walls and counters. With a flick of her wand, Ginny lit the two nearest lamps; Hermione likewise lit another two near the counter. Gasps echoed in the deserted room, reflecting off the ornately carved wooden wall panels. After the echoes faded, the panels seemed to whisper, almost as if the designs themselves spoke to the newcomers.

As the party journeyed further into the shop, the girls continued their spell casting, and all the while the whispers grew louder, as if reacting to the light.

"If walls could talk…" Fred joked.

"What stories they'd tell," Frimiare whispered in response, earning an approving glance from the twin.

Upon further examination, they found that the shop didn't go very far back, but had a large upstairs area, which George commented would be wonderful for excess storage. The walls were flat-paneled in a light wood, maybe pine or birch, and the floors were of a dark but complimentary linoleum. After observing the few rooms in the upper floor, the party returned downstairs. Through two small windows they saw that the sky was turning red and orange, signs of the sunset.

"I should get you back…" Frimiare commented, earning looks from everyone. "You'll be expected to attend the feast, no?"

"Oh," several muttered.

In but a moment they found themselves standing in front of the great wooden doors to the Great Hall. But… apparition inside the grounds was impossible…right? What magic did this girl have?

"There's got to be more to this girl than she's telling us," George reasoned.

"Considering that, she hasn't really told us anything," Fred replied. "All we know is she can supposedly do anything You-Know-Who can, and that's only Arkinea's word."

"I hate this," the other twin said, banging his fist on the table. "Sorry, Ron," he added, noticing he had spilled his brother's glass of pumpkin juice.

"I know, I know, but how else were we supposed to get started? We're broke anyway…or we were."

"The only reason we got that shop is because of the money Arkinea gave us, and we know even less about her. There have got to be strings attached. There's no such thing as free money."

"She wouldn't—" Harry began, but cut himself off.

He was beginning to feel the attraction weakening, but every time he felt it, it sent a pang through his scar…and he liked it. He wanted the pain, and in a way that made the attraction even stronger. Consciously thinking about this, he settled on telling the twins that they should be glad she was nice enough to give them the money in the first place; surprisingly, they agreed, saying she couldn't be all bad if she was willing to help them out so generously.

Ron gulped down a mouthful of pumpkin juice and exclaimed, "How can you say that? She's a—" he lowered his voice. "She's a Death Eater!"

"You don't know that for sure," Harry said. "Snape was a Death Eater and he turned out ok."

"Ok?" Ron spluttered. "Ok! You call being an inherently evil slime ball ok?"

"If Dumbledore trusts him…" Harry shrugged.

"I guess Harry's got a point," Fred said. "I'd trust Dumbledore too, if I were him."

"But think about it," Ron replied. "All those people who betrayed You-Know-Who when he fell…well, they came back to him when he came back. How do you know it's not the same with her?"

"Because Voldemort's not gone," Harry answered. "She's either with him or not. There is no middle ground when it comes to him." He paused, glancing around. "Look, if you want to know so badly, ask her yourself."

He gestured toward the doors of the Great Hall as the girl in question walked into the dining hall. She wore robes this night, plain black with a Slytherin badge on one shoulder. She sat next to her sister-figure, who put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her momentarily. The girl shook her head slightly and muttered something, causing Frimiare to look in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

"I don't know if now's the best time, mate," George said, taking a drink of juice.

As Arkinea took a seat by her companion, Frimiare gave her a one-armed hug.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"You look like you needed a hug," her sister replied. "Will you tell me what's wrong or do I have to guess?"

"Him," Arkinea spat, looking in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

"Ah," Frimiare replied, understanding. "The attraction. Is it affecting you as well?"

Her master nodded. "I hate him. I was bred to hate him. Yet…I do not know…what has happened to me?"

Frimiare sighed. "Perhaps if you nurtured—"

"Out of the question!"

"May I finish?" A reluctant nod. "Perhaps if you…responded to his feelings, toyed with him you might say, these feelings would go away."

A thoughtful look crossed Arkinea's face. "That might give me some satisfaction," she replied slowly. "However, I do not want to encourage him."

"I understand that," her subject replied, standing up. "May I suggest that we speak of this elsewhere?"

Arkinea stood, replying, "You may. Let us go to the common room."

They turned to leave the hall, Arkinea glancing back in Harry's direction, to find him engaged in conversation with his friends. She smiled inwardly, then mentally scolded herself for thinking of him.

Upon arrival in the Slytherin dungeons, they made their way to the section of wall concealing the common room. Arkinea, the first to reach the wall, whispered the password, "Fidelius," and the section of wall recessed into the surrounding stone and slid into the floor. As the girls stepped over the threshold, the stone stirred impatiently before sliding back into place.

As soon as she saw that no one was around, Frimiare blurted, "We have to find a way to break the attraction."

Arkinea held up a hand passively. "Please stay calm," she replied. "It is not of vital importance that we solve this problem."

"Not of vital—" her sister spluttered. "It's hurting you!"

The master smiled sadly. "But it was your blood spell that set things in motion," she whispered. "Of course it hurts, to love a hated opponent."

Frimiare's eyes widened in shock. "My spell…did this?"

"Yes," her sister answered. "I did not tell you because I feared you would react badly."

"It was only supposed to make you stronger…I…this wasn't supposed to happen," the other stammered. "There must be something…there has to be a way to fix it."

"Perhaps," Arkinea mused. "For now I believe I should follow your suggestion and return the boy's feelings."

Frimiare followed her sister sadly to their room, to the black lace curtained window leading out to the balcony. Instead of parting the shimmering lace, Arkinea stood near it, nose almost touching, so close her breath disturbed the fragile fabric ever so slightly. She looked through the curtains at nothing, not seeing the quickly fading pink and orange of the sunset, not seeing the faint crescent moon and glittering stars, not seeing the blackness of night dotted with the lights of torches in the many windows of the castle. She didn't notice when her sister kissed her softly on the cheek and left the room silently, didn't notice the cool wetness of tears on her skin, didn't notice that the tears weren't her own. She dreamed of the cursed boy, of his death, the Dark Lord's triumph, she and her sister by his side laughing. Then he was gone and it was just the two girls, side by side, holding hands as children do, walking home through the trees together.

"Kiy? Kiy, wake up."

She felt a coolness on her face.

"Kiy!"

Her eyes opened to a familiar face, to an odd perspective, as she found herself lying on the floor, or in the lap of her caretaker, rather.

"You fell asleep standing up," the girl said, smiling. "Don't scare me like that."

"I did not intend to frighten you," Arkinea replied sincerely.

Her sister smiled. "That's alright. Just be more careful, ok?"

The other returned the smile. "Of course."

After a few minutes the girls were sitting on the queen sized bed, the covers rumpled as if a sleeper had awakened recently. Frimiare leaned against the headboard, the carven grooved design digging uncomfortably into her back. Her sister lay in her lap, comfortable in the hollow of her crossed legs, toying with the falling locks of her obsidian blue hair, while Frimiare stroked Arkinea's pale charcoal hair.

"What was that about?" Frimiare asked, concerned.

"I…don't know," her sister replied, sounding somewhat bewildered.

Her sister closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the carven wood. "What were you thinking about?" she asked softly.

After several moments, Arkinea took a breath and spoke. "I was thinking about _him_ and the attraction, and then I thought about you. We killed him, you and I and Uncle Thomas. And then we laughed together, you and I just, and we walked home together through the forest like we did when we were kids. Remember?"

The other girl's eyes glazed over with the memory, the pain in her back all but forgotten, endurable only because she was comforting her dearest friend.

"Yes, I remember," she whispered softly. After a pause, she continued, "You found me as a baby, after Uncle Thomas killed my parents. I thank the heavens every day for you two."

The elder closed her eyes, remembering…

"_Uncle!" she cried, barely able to speak at such a young age. "Who dat?"_

_She pointed through the fire to a faint movement with a tiny scorched hand, a cool breeze blowing in the direction she indicated, causing the figure to recoil. She quickly dropped her arm as a tall man walked up beside her, peering into the darkness. He saw the figure huddled near the bodies, clutching the hand of the dead woman, faint gasping sobs issuing from it._

"_Come here, girl," he commanded, but when she just looked at him, he glanced at his niece, silently asking her to speak to the girl._

_Young Arkinea smiled and walked toward the smaller girl, easily making her way through the broken furniture and flickering heat, the orange of the fire making her white hair glimmer like a million tiny rainbows. She held out her tiny reddened hand, blowing another cool gust toward the smaller girl, causing another recoil. This time the girl closed her eyes tight and shook her head, short ebony hair falling in her face, clutching the dead hand grew a blanket of frost. The white-haired girl stopped a short distance from the other girl and dropped to her knees, splinters slicing her skin, and looked at the girl, imploring her to understand._

"_Pwease," she muttered. "Come with us."_

_The smaller girl looked up, eyes wide and glossy, and whispered something unintelligible. She didn't move, just stared with her big blue eyes. A gust of cold wind washed over the girls, gentle but icy. The small girl sighed and the chill vanished, leaving Arkinea staring at her, dumbfounded. She looked at Arkinea and blinked once, tears streaming down her face from her glassy eyes._

"_You save me?" the small girl asked, and in response the other nodded and held out her hand._

_The girl stood, finally letting go of the dead woman's hand, and stepped forward. Arkinea did the same, stretching out her little red hand. The girl took it, and as she did a coolness spread through the scorched hand, causing both girls to recoil at the feeling. The girl's eyes widened as she looked at the questioning face of the elder, then both smiled and clasped hands again, the coolness lingering but slowly fading. Hand-in-hand, they picked their way through the debris, flames softly licking at their skin. When they reached the tall man, the girls faced each other._

"_Arkinea," the elder said, pointing to herself._

_The other smiled and gestured to herself, saying, "Frimiare."_

_The tall man smiled, petting both girls on the heads, as Arkinea introduced him as "Uncle Thomas." The smaller girl, Frimiare, looked back at the dead woman and her smile faded. Again, tears ran down her face, leaving frosty trails on her cheeks. She murmured "mama" as Arkinea took her in her arms, an attempt at comforting her new sister._

_Then they followed the tall man out of the broken house, leaving shimmering frost in the night._

Arkinea wiped her sister's tears from her face, moving her face into the other girl's hand, inhaling the cool smell of her.

"I have missed this, sister," she whispered.

"As have I," Frimiare replied quietly.

The elder rolled off her sister's lap and onto her back, raising her hand up to Frimiare's face, stroking her cheek gently, silently beckoning her to lay down beside her. Her sister sighed as she pushed herself away from the carven headboard and stretched out beside Arkinea, entwining their hands together.

"I am sorry I worried you," Arkinea said.

"It's alright," Frimiare replied. "As long as you're ok, it's alright."

The elder closed her eyes and sighed, saying, "I dreamt that we killed him. You and me and Uncle Thomas…we killed that accursed boy. And then we were children again, walking home through the woods like we used to. I miss you, dear Frimiare."

Frimiare's eyes darkened softly. "I miss you too, doveling."

She smiled and moved closer to Arkinea, wrapping her free arm around her waist in a loose embrace. The other girl, in turn, raised her head and pressed her soft lips to the slowly throbbing vein in her sister's neck, drawing a small gasp from her recipient, and unexpectedly from herself too. Images of their childhood flashed through her mind; finding Frimiare in that broken burning house; skipping through the woods; the first time Uncle Thomas came back in the guise of another; when Nagini found them lost in London the first time they went shopping there; their first day of school when Frimiare cried because they weren't in the same class. Always together…

"It is not him," she realized with a start.

"What?" Frimiare asked.

"The attraction…it is not the boy I am drawn to," Arkinea answered, looking into her sister's cold eyes. "It is you."

The cold eyes widened, obsidian lashes fluttering in astonishment. "Me?...But…"

"You have always been my sister, yes, and you will always be so to me," the elder responded. "Your spell, your blood…has triggered something inside me. You know how I have become as I have grown…"

"Yes," Frimiare replied. "If this is inconvenient for you, I apologize. I did not mean for this to happen."

"That is quite alright, sweetling," Arkinea whispered. "It is rather a blessing than inconvenient. We shall take this in stride; make the best of it."

The younger smiled almost deceptively and embraced her sister lovingly, whispering, "A blessing indeed."

She nuzzled Arkinea's grey hair, soft like down feathers and smelling of sweet green tea, and placed a light kiss just below her ear. Frimiare pulled away and rolled onto her back, pulling Arkinea with her with an arm draped around her elder's shoulders. Arkinea didn't resist, resting her head on her sister's breast, clutching at her silky black dressing gown like a small frightened child. She looked up at Frimiare questioningly, and received in response a soothing pat on the head, telling her to put her head down and sleep. Reaching behind her to pull the smooth covers over them, Arkinea picked her head up and kissed Frimiare tentatively on the cheek. She felt Frimiare smile under her mouth before the younger moved her hand up under Arkinea's chin to turn her face. As their lips brushed for the shortest instant, Arkinea's like fire, Frimiare's like ice, both girls recoiled at the shock of the opposing temperatures. The elder laid her head back down and pulled the covers over them both before they fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Latin: "My ghosts/spirits return to me."


End file.
